


when there's no ground

by finkpishnets



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angry Simon, Hurt Raphael, M/M, Mostly Simon taking charge, Post-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-06 00:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6729916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finkpishnets/pseuds/finkpishnets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What do I do?” Simon asks, and Magnus nods like it’s the right question.</p><p>“You can stop playing Shadowhunter and start being a vampire,” he says. “You can fix what you broke.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	when there's no ground

**Author's Note:**

> This is a response to the prompt: "I'd love to see something with Simon reacting to Raphael being hurt."
> 
> Show canon only (with bonus Lily Chen). This isn't my actual post-finale reaction fic, but it's _a_ post-finale reaction fic. I'm sure I'll end up writing way too many.

 

**+**

 

The first three times his phone rings, Simon ignores it. Clary’s finally found some time amidst Saving the World™ to hang out, and they’ve recovered his PS4 and spent the afternoon kicking computer graphic ass like old times. There’s a bowl of half-eaten popcorn between them, and the smell’s torture but it’s _tradition_ so Simon puts up with it and tries to be as subtle about the flask of blood he’s swilling as possible. Anything to keep up the illusion.

Honestly, they’re just trying to keep busy. Jace sent a fire message to Alec about a week ago — barely a quick, _‘hey, I’m alive, hope you guys are too, and also I swear I’m not evil so chill.’_ — and it was both a relief and proof that there really isn’t anything they can do to help him when he’s apparently (probably not) got things under control. Clary’s refusing to acknowledge much about it at all besides moving out of the Institute and back in with her mom and Luke, and Simon would call her on the whole denial thing if he wasn’t just happy to tag along and crash on the couch.

Also, he’s not a total hypocrite.

His phone rings a fourth time, and Clary eyes it until Simon picks up, sticking his tongue out at her.

“Hullo?” he says, smashing a couple of buttons on his controller as Clary laughs and beats him again.

“Simon,” Magnus says, and the use of his given name has the smile freezing on his face, “it’s about time. Get over here _now_.” He hangs up and Simon holds the cell to his ear for a moment longer, trying to remember how to move.

“What’s happened?” Clary asks, already reaching for her shoes and bag, and Simon shakes his head and grabs the keys to his van even though it’d be quicker for him to run. He doesn’t dare leave Clary behind, though, not when he doesn’t know the answer to her question.

“I’ll drive,” she says, and he can’t even bring himself to argue.

 

**+**

 

Magnus’ door is open when they arrive, and it’s only because Simon’s immortal that he didn’t have a complete meltdown on the way.

“You don’t even have a license,” he says. “How did I forget you _don’t even have a license?_ ”

“It wasn’t _that_ bad,” Clary says, even though they almost ran over three people, ignored two stop signs, and at one point she’d actually asked, ‘wait, which pedal does what again?’ Simon is never ever letting her control another vehicle.

Alec’s sat on the sofa looking awkward, and he gets up to greet them, waving a hand towards the bedroom. “They’re through there.”

Clary frowns and begins to move, and Simon thinks, _‘If it’s Jace…’_ but Alec puts a hand out to stop her, shaking his head and Clary’s confusion deepens. 

Simon gets it though. It’s like he’s been deliberately not thinking about it, like if he could just pretend that he’s once again a by-stander to someone else’s problems then it’ll all be okay, except Magnus wouldn’t have called _him_ unless—

He’s standing next to the bed in the space of a heartbeat.

“Finally,” Magnus says, brittle and vulnerable and furious.

“What happened?” Simon asks, because he can’t look, _he can’t._

He looks.

Raphael’s so pale except for the jagged lines down his neck and across his torso, crisscrossing in a deliberate pattern that would look artistic on any other canvas. His hair’s mussed and his shirt’s ripped and he’s _young_ , how did Simon never notice how _young_ he is?

“Why isn’t he healing?” he asks when Magnus doesn’t answer, and Magnus’ scoff is bottled with rage.

“Because it’s too _much_ ,” he says, fingers fumbling across potion bottles and spellbooks. “If he were anyone else he wouldn’t be here right now. He still might not—” He cuts himself off, pressing his palms over his eyes with a shaky breath, and Simon realizes that Raphael is Magnus’ _friend_.

He’s never even thought to ask, never assumed that Raphael _had_ friends, just enemies and alliances, and now he feels sick with understanding. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so sorry.”

Magnus doesn’t answer, just brushes a strand of hair out of Raphael’s face and looks down on him with heartbreaking fondness. Simon wonders if Alec knows, if he’s already seen the strands weaving between people he didn’t use to care about, or if everyone’s learning at the same pace he is. He wonders if he can find a way to turn back time.

There are more voices in the other room now, Isabelle and Lydia, and Simon ignores them and clenches his fingers into his palms to stop himself reaching out. It shouldn’t _be_ like this; Raphael should be rolling his eyes and smirking and calling Simon an idiot. He should be shouting at Simon for putting everyone in danger or threatening his life or glancing down at his lips like he can’t stop himself. He should, he should, he should, but he’s _not_ , and Simon gets it now, what Raphael was trying to teach him about control, because he’s barely holding onto the last of his by a thread. 

“What do I do?” Simon asks, and Magnus nods like it’s the right question.

“You can stop playing Shadowhunter and start being a vampire,” he says. “You can fix what you broke.”

Simon lets himself press a hand against Raphael’s arm, just for a second, and goes.

 

**+**

 

“Simon, no!” Clary says. “It’s too dangerous. I’ve already lost Jace, I can’t lose you too.”

“Clary,” Simon says, trying to keep himself steady. His head’s pounding with the need for action and his fangs feel ready to split from his gums; he wants revenge and he wants Raphael to wake up and he needs Clary to get out of his way before he does something else he’ll regret. “Move.”

“No,” she says. “I get it, _none of us_ like Camille, but you signed a binding agreement. There’s nothing we can do unless she breaks the Accords again.”

The others are watching them warily, and Simon can hear Magnus whispering memories to his patient in the other room. He wants to scream. 

“There’s nothing _you_ can do,” he says, and Clary blinks.

“Simon,” she starts. “This sucks, I know, but—”

“ _You don’t know,_ ” he says, loud and fragmented. “You have no _idea!_ Raphael is dying because _we_ let Camille go, because we decided our mission — _your_ mission — was more important than an entire group of people. He was protecting his clan, _he was protecting me_ , and I betrayed him because _you asked me to_. Fuck!” He punches at the wall and his hand goes clean through, plasterboard and brick crumbling into dust. He wants to keep lashing out, wants to tear down the whole damn city until it’s just him and Camille’s smirk, and then he wants to do what he should have done the minute he’d found her in that casket.

The wall magically seals itself as he pulls his hand away, and it’s testament to how similarly Magnus is feeling that he doesn’t ream him out from two rooms over.

“I’m sorry,” Simon says, when his vision begins to clear. “It’s not your fault, it’s mine. I made a choice to do what you asked me to, and now I need to fix it. So, Clary, I’m asking you again. _Move_.”

She hesitates for a moment longer and then does, stepping nearer to Isabelle. The Shadowhunters are all looking at him with barely concealed suspicion, and Simon’s anger is simmering too close to the surface for him to point out the hypocrisy in their defence of one another and their confusion when he — when _Downworlders_ — do the same. He’d like to still have _some_ friends come morning.

“Make sure she’s gone for a very long time,” Magnus says from the doorway, eyeliner smudged and lips pressed in a tight line.

“Don’t worry,” Simon says, and it’s a promise he plans to keep, “I will.”

 

**+**

 

It’s not easy.

The clan barely trusted him _before_ he went behind their backs and brought the whole house of cards crashing down on them. Now he’s dodging fists and knives before he manages to get more than a sentence out, and if it wasn’t bad enough, word of Raphael’s state is making the rounds.

They’re _afraid_ , and Simon made them that way.

“He defended you,” Lily says. “When we all told him you were trouble, he _defended_ you. I think he even…” She cuts herself off, and Simon’s glad because he can hear the end of that statement bouncing off the alley walls anyway and it’s enough to make him sick with guilt.

“ _I know_ ,” he says. “I know. But I need help to make it right.”

“So go to your damn Shadowhunters,” Lily spits.

Simon shakes his head. She’s his last hope, the only one who's love for Raphael outweighs any amount of fear, and if she won’t stand with him then his one move is practically a suicide mission. “ _No_ ,” he says. “This is family business.”

She glares at him in disdain but nods anyway.

“Okay,” she says.

It’s a start.

 

**+**

 

Lily’s word is almost as gospel as Raphael’s, and it takes time but Simon can feel the whispers of support falling into place. Magnus texts him updates, but they’re sparse and simple, all accumulating in variations of, _‘nothing’s changed’_ , and Simon refrains from throwing his cellphone at the sidewalk. He doesn’t answer any of Clary’s frequent calls, though he asks Magnus to let her know he’s alright.

Lily says there’s a symmetry to it all, like coming full circle. Raphael took down Camille because of Simon, and now Simon’s taking down Camille because of Raphael.

“I’d say you were missing something important,” she says, “but I don’t think you _are_.”

He’s not, but he won’t give her the satisfaction of saying that aloud. 

Simon’s always worn his emotions on his sleeve, and just because people tend to be oblivious about _his_ feelings doesn’t mean he’s oblivious to _theirs_. Nothing about this is a surprise, not even his own heart.

 

**+**

 

Clary texts a _stay safe_ , and Magnus must be keeping her informed because it comes through right as he’s building up the courage to do what needs to be done.

 _Promise_ , he replies and pushes his shoulders back.

Since he was Turned Simon’s had plenty of practice at pretending to be tough, but he doesn’t need it now. He thinks about Raphael, unmoved on Magnus’ spare bed, torn apart because of everyone else’s bad choices — because of _his_ bad choices — and he’s _calm_ , the sort that can only be born from rage and clarity and reconciliation.

He’s the eye of the storm, and before he walks through the door of the Hotel DuMort he knows without a shadow of a doubt that Camille’s already lost.

 

**+**

 

Afterwards, amidst blood and death and wreckage, Lily says, “There’s a darkness in you,” with a respect he doesn’t think he ever should have earned this way.

“I’m sorry all of this had to go down,” he says, because he finally, truthfully _is_.

“Don’t be,” Lily says, clutching at her dislocated shoulder and keeping a watchful eye on the injured. “You were always going to change things, we just didn’t know how.” 

“And now you do?” he asks.

The corner of Lily’s mouth tugs up into something that’s almost a smile. “Now we do,” she says, and when she takes her leave it’s with a nod of deference Simon can’t handle just yet.

He calls Clary instead.

“Hi,” he says. “It’s over.”

“ _You’re okay?_ ” she asks, and he takes a moment to think about it before answering.

“Not yet, but I will be. If Raphael wakes up. _When_ Raphael wakes up.”

Clary takes a breath. “ _Oh_ ,” she says. “ _It’s like that._ ”

Simon laughs, and it sounds as fragile as he feels. “It’s like that,” he says, and doesn’t regret it for an instant.

“ _I’m sorry I ever put you in that position,_ ” Clary blurts out. “ _It wasn’t fair. I took your friendship for granted and I didn’t stop to think about how it would—_ ”

“Clary, stop,” he says. “I make my own choices. Sometimes they’re questionable and sometimes they suck beyond the telling of it, but, you know…” He looks around the room at the clan attending to each other, righting furniture and unravelling bandages and nodding at Simon when they catch his eye. “Sometimes they turn out alright.”

“ _Magnus says Raphael looks a bit better_ ,” Clary says, and Simon smiles for the first time in weeks.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

 

**+**

 

When Raphael finally opens his eyes, Simon’s asleep.

It’s been chaos trying to keep everything running smoothly over at the hotel, and if Simon had ever thought he was forgiven he was swiftly corrected by Lily thrusting piles of paperwork at him and reminding him that his role as Advisor to the Interim Chapter President had never _actually_ been revoked and therefore he was the highest ranking member of the clan until Raphael was fit for leadership again.

(“Raphael _made that role up,_ ” Simon says, looking at the seemingly endless row of folders in horror. “He was being a dick!”

“Yes,” Lily says, smirking — and Simon would really love to know which one of them learned that from the other — “but you’re still in charge.”

“Why would you _do_ that?” he says, and if he sounds like a five year old throwing a temper tantrum then that’s not far off. “Everyone’s seen what happens when I do anything! I’m a walking hazard!”

“Sure,” Lily says, “but you’re our walking hazard _leader_.”)

Despite the complaints and the snide comments and the truly shocking bookkeeping, Simon’s found himself _enjoying_ it; he wonders if this is what Raphael always meant to happen, or if it’s just a byproduct of events, and he’s not sure he cares either way. Fate’s been playing him since that night outside Pandemonium, but now he’s caught onto the game and he thinks that maybe, _just maybe_ , he can see how to win.

“Wake up,” Raphael says, and Simon does with a jolt.

“Oh,” he says. “Hi.”

Raphael’s frowning, sleep addled and confused, and Simon reaches out to stop him trying to sit too far upright and reopening his wounds. They’re mostly gone, but Magnus is still keeping to a strict regime of poultices and spellwork and store bought antibacterial gels.

“What happened?” Raphael asks.

“Camille,” Simon says by way of explanation, and Raphael nods like he’s not surprised or like he remembers.

“I assume this is Bane’s work?” he says, looking around, and Simon nods.

“Yeah,” he says. “You’ve been out for nearly six weeks.”

Raphael lets out a groan, sinking back into pillows. “It’s all over then,” he says, and Simon’s heart breaks at the certainty and despair of it.

“Yeah,” he says, voice cracking because _Raphael is awake_ , “but not in the way you’re thinking.”

Simon smiles, and Raphael blinks and seems to remember that, as far as he recalls, they’re not on speaking terms. Simon can see it in the tightening of his lips and the line between his eyes, and everything’s clearer now but that disappointed glint is enough to make Simon’s stomach swoop unpleasantly. 

“Why are you here?” Raphael asks, and Simon thinks about the last weeks, the plotting and the bloodshed and the aftermath. He thinks about the clan back at the hotel all with errands and requests handed out by Simon himself, and about the meeting with the Clave he’d had to attend, and about Raphael being _everywhere_ even as he lay right here.

Simon thinks about choices and Fate and his own heart and can’t help the hysterical laugh that bubbles out of him.

“Are you _on_ something?” Raphael asks. “What the hell?”

“I’ll explain everything,” Simon says, trying to control himself. “I promise I will. But first I’m going to kiss you.”

Raphael blinks and opens his mouth to reply, but Simon’s too tired and relieved and _happy_ and cuts him off with a shake of his head.

“Just—” he says. “I swear. _This time_. This time you can trust me.”

Raphael watches him for a long moment, and Simon doesn’t know what he sees but when he nods it’s permission and approval and a flash of something that could one day be forgiveness. Simon’s heart soars with it.

“Okay,” Simon says, reaching out for Raphael with shaking fingers, thinking about the future and the past and all the paths that have been laid out for them, and how the picture’s starting to take shape. “Okay.”

He kisses him and finally understands.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me about loser vampires in love [over on tumblr](http://madroxed.tumblr.com/) any time.


End file.
